


"I can't do this on my own."

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Series: Mystrade Monday Part 2: Flash Fiction [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Co-workers, Don't Post To Another Site, Escape Rooms, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Greg is supportive, M/M, Mycroft is very annoyed, Team Bonding, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: Enforced team bonding? How will Mycroft ever survive such torture?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Series: Mystrade Monday Part 2: Flash Fiction [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862299
Comments: 29
Kudos: 144





	"I can't do this on my own."

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Mark Gatiss's Cluequest mug

Shocked, Mycroft stared at Anthea. “You can’t be serious?”

“I’m afraid I am.” She looked down at the memo she’d printed from her email. “It says, and I quote, ‘Attendance is mandatory.’, end quote.”

“I feel ill.”

Anthea consulted the page. “You’ll need a doctor’s note.”

“Surely, Dr. Watson will oblige me.”

“From the unit physician,” she replied before looking up from the page.

“I suppose there’s no other choice then.” Mycroft closed his eyes and looked pained. He opened his eyes. “Activate Operation Alcmaeon,” he directed somberly.

Anthea rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, you’re overreacting.”

Mycroft glared balefully at his assistant, before reluctantly agreeing she was right.

“Partners are encouraged. You could bring DI Lestrade,” Anthea suggested. “I’m sure he’d keep you from going completely mad.”

“Fine. See that he’s available for this… this… this horror show that’s being foisted upon me.”

* * *

“This is going to be brilliant,” Greg gushed as they drove to the venue.

Mycroft grunted as he stared gloomily out the window. The rain ran down the glass. The grey, wet weather matched Mycroft’s mood to a tee.

“I’ve never done an escape room before. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at one, you know. This is considered one of the best. We are going to smash it. I just know it.” Greg grinned with excitement and smacked his hand against the steering wheel.

Mycroft only emitted another small grunt.

Greg glanced over at Mycroft. “Now don’t be such a sour puss. It could be much worse. You could’ve had to do one of those team building retreats with ropes courses and trust falls.”

“Oh dear God.” Mycroft shuddered.

Greg laughed. He pulled the car into a small parking area next to an old, brick warehouse. “This is it.” He looked at the building noting a nondescript sign by the door and the darkened windows.

Mycroft turned to Greg. “Please,” he begged. “Shoot me.”

“Didn’t bring my gun, love.”

Mycroft took a deep breath, stealing himself for the noise and the people. “Fine.”

Just inside the door was a waiting area filled with 28 other participants. Mycroft and Greg were the last to arrive.

“Wonderful! You made it, Mycroft, and you brought the delightful Detective Inspector with you.”

“Hello, Alicia,” Mycroft replied cooly. “Are you responsible for this nightmare come to life?”

“Oh no, darling. You may blame Sir Edwin.” Lady Smallwood nodded toward a mousy looking man in the corner speaking animatedly with a few lower level analysts.

Mycroft’s response was stopped by the start of the preliminary instructions. They were reminded to leave their smart phones in the boxes provided. The emergency exit buttons were pointed out. Greg shot Mycroft a look and mouthed, “Don’t you dare.” Mycroft gave Greg his best innocent, wide-eyed expression.

Four groups of seven were formed. Mycroft and Greg were assigned to a group with Sir Edwin’s PA, and four junior analysts. As the scenario was described to them, Mycroft rolled his eyes so hard and so often Greg was afraid he’d sprain an eye muscle.

“Stopping Dracula from rising again?” Mycroft muttered to Greg. “Could anything be more inane?”

“They could’ve given you a scenario where you have to hunt spies, but that’ve been too much like work.” Greg reasonably pointed out.

They were shepherded into their room and the door locked.

“All right!” Greg clapped his hands together. “We’ve got forty-five minutes to find the clues, solve the puzzles and stake Dracula. Let’s get started.” He smiled at the crew. They stared blankly back at him.

“Anyone who gets me out of here in less than fifteen minutes, will have my undying gratitude and their choice of assignments for the next three years,” Mycroft intoned from the corner he'd occupied.

The analysts scattered about the room combing the contents for clues. Mycroft watched from his corner as Sir Edwin’s PA organized the information coming in. One of the analysts screwed up her courage, asking Mycroft to move so she could check his area for clues. Mycroft graciously stood aside and she plucked a picture off the wall to discover a safe behind it. He moved to another corner as his space was inundated by curious co workers.

Greg joined Mycroft in the relatively quiet corner of the room. “Aren’t you going to participate?” He asked.

“They’re doing fine.” Mycroft glanced at his watch. “We should be out of here in about seven minutes.”

“You’re just going to watch.”

“Gregory, if I started to assist they’d stop working, thinking I would solve the room for them. I can’t do this on my own. It’s a team building exercise.”

“You’re part of the team.” Greg gestured to the group currently studying the locked coffin.

“I’ve never been part of anyone’s team.” Mycroft crossed his arms over his chest, looking irritated.

Greg rested a hand on Mycroft’s arm. “You and me, we’re a team.”

Mycroft melted a little under Greg’s warm gaze. “I take it back,” he murmured, touched by Greg’s regard. “I’ve only ever been part of one team.” Mycroft tilted his head as if he wished to kiss Greg. Greg smiled at Mycroft and lifted his face hoping to capitalize on the wish. A loud exclamation interrupted the moment.

“Och! This should be the code for the safe.” A young man with a thick Scottish accent drew back his hand to punch the wall.

“Oi! Don’t hit the wall!” Greg called out. The analyst stopped and stomped away.

Mycroft wandered over to the group and examined what information they had. “Bring me the calculator,” he directed calmly. Several of the group looked confused, but one gasped in recognition. They snatched the calculator from a nearby shelf, handing it to Mycroft. He swiftly tapped in a few numbers and then turned the screen upside down to show the team.

“Shells!” Shouted the short blonde. “Of course!”

Mycroft moved away as the safe was opened and a key was discovered. Five minutes later they were back in the lobby. None of the other teams had finished yet and the host was flabbergasted at the rapidity with which they’d solved the room.

“You’ll need a team name to post on the leaderboard,” the host advised.

Names were bandied about, until someone tentatively suggested 'Minions'.

“Oh, how about ‘Mycroft’s Minions’?” Sir Edwin’s PA looked pleased with himself. The rest of the team cheerfully gave their approval.

“Mycroft’s Minions, hey?” Greg nudged Mycroft. “Looks like you’re part of more than one team now.”

A tiny smile played at the corners of Mycroft’s mouth. “I suppose it can’t be helped,” he replied as he eyed the team name at the top of the leaderboard.


End file.
